A Soldier's Ethos
by B.C. Crossing
Summary: The price of war does not discriminate. It does not favor one side from another. It does not lose, but the loss is great. In the end, war is hard on everyone, whether you are rich, poor, from Earth or from Mars; a civilian or a soldier far from home. All suffer from its consequences.


*Ethos: the distinguishing character, sentiment, moral nature, guiding beliefs, or spirit of a person, group or culture

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This is dedicated to my brave, not-so-little-anymore brother. He won't ever read this but it's for him just the same. I can't even begin to imagine what he will go through once he's deployed in September, but this is my idea of what he, or any other soldier who's in a foreign land, may be feeling. He's still State-side but I'm going to be dreading the day he leaves. May he do his duty honorably and return home to us safely. To **all** the brave men and women, who are away from home, may you return safe and sound. Because the ones you left behind miss you very much and are **very** thankful for what you are doing. And to the ones who come home in a different manner: your sacrifice will not be forgotten. Thank you, you brave men and women. Everywhere.

I'm a **proud** Army sister! Hooah!

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A lone biker quietly navigated the peaceful roads that stretched beyond the city limits of Chicago. Against his normal habit of having others with him, this was a solo ride. Where normally he would be riding with a mission and an impulsive plan, this was more of a leisurely trip. Turning off the main road, he followed a dirt path that rounded through the trees and led him to the top of a hill overlooking Lake Michigan. Taking a moment to remove his helmet and to give his head a shake to loosen his ears and antennae, he looked around at his surroundings. Confirming this was the spot where he wanted to be, the alien Mouse turned to examine the heavens.

The Martian Biker stared up into the night sky and located the tiny orange-red dot that was his home planet. Sadness and longing clearly visible in his expression as he wished that he was back on the red Martian soil. With a sigh, he continued gazing up as his mind wandered. He loved being in Chicago, making new friends and helping the people of Earth fight a win a battle that they had no idea that they would definitely be losing if he and his bros hadn't crash landed on their little rock. As seasoned soldiers, they had no problem helping the naïve citizens with the war that happening in their backyard. A slight smirk ghosted across his facial features as the thought that even if the Biker Mice left that very night, Earth would still have more than a fighting chance because of the genius that was Charlene Davidson. Craters, Charley scared the living daylights out of the Mice when she went "mad scientist" in front of them and they loved her. If she had to face the Stinkfish by herself, she would come out the victor, hands down.

He allowed himself one more moment of mirth before he returned to more sobering thoughts. Relocating the tiny red speck, his sights once again turned to home. Home. Just thinking the word sent a deep yearning through his soul. Mars, so near and yet so far. War-torn, scarred and maybe a little more than a desolate wasteland, but it was the one place in the galaxy that he wanted to go to more than anything. The sands were soaked with the blood of many innocent civilians, brave soldiers and greedy enemies; heavy bloodshed on all sides. Blood and the lives of many was the price of freedom. Going back home was one of the things that kept him going after all this time. He must not fail. The Biker Mice must not fail with their mission. The Plutarkians had taken so much from them but there was still just enough life and willpower to rebuild their homeland. It could take years, maybe even generations to restore Mars to her former glory; to rebuild their cities, to care for the land so it could survive, to have a civilization again.

A civilization that was almost on the brink of extinction. A nation that had lost so much, with its people dying along with their way of life. A culture which was being torn to pieces and scattered across the known universes. Everything that made him who he was was being sold to the highest bidder. Countless lives had been taken and he had sworn that they would not be given in vain. He had sworn that oath upon the graves and memories of many of his comrades; too many in his opinion. A very small part of his honor felt guilty that he and his Bros were away from the heart of the action but he knew that they had landed on Earth for a reason. And that reason was just as important as being on Mars in the thick of things. His beliefs teetered once again on the fact that he was forgetting about his vow to his fallen fellow soldiers and to the civilians that they arrived too late to protect. The same fellow Martians that he had seen die right before his eyes. The same people that he helped bury and the same people that he had to make that heart-wrenching trip to tell their loved ones that they wouldn't be coming home again.

Tears spilled and dripped off his nose as he silently sobbed for all the friends and loved ones he had lost and sent prayers for the ones that may still be alive. He had put off grieving for so long; he didn't know how he did it. He tried and succeeded to hide his grief before his friends but even a seasoned soldier has to weep and mourn. He allowed himself a handful more tears and sobs before he pulled himself together and regained his composure. The Soldier's Creed echoing through his thoughts: A soldier must not show weakness. He must stay strong for his fellow soldiers. He must place the mission first. He would never accept defeat. He must be disciplined, physically and mentally. He's the protector of his people and their way of life. He is a Soldier.

Taking a deep, ragged breath, he thought to himself; soldiers protect people. They protect the ones that can't defend themselves, to keep more innocent lives from being lost. That's why he and the bros where here, so far from home. That was their mission, their creed, their way of life. A soldier's duty sets him apart. He must go where he is needed, whether it's a few miles or light years away across the cosmos, he most go with a brave face. With his mind in the proper place, he sent a small smile towards his bike as she beeped encouragingly at him. Chuckling, he straddled his machine and gave her a loving caress along her tank in silent thanks. Revving loudly, he raced off to The Last Chance Garage; determination returning to his face as he had reminded himself of why a soldier must leave his homeland and journey to far off lands.

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**A/N:** I'm leaving you, the reader, to decide which Martian Mouse is the Unknown Soldier.

For those of you who are wondering what happened with Monday's Child, fear not! I'm getting ready for vacation but when I get back, I'm hoping to have some chapters written.

Write Free, Citizens!


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